Full Circle
by NeoRetro10K
Summary: Following the creation of the Meta, the Freelancers have disbanded - a fact concealed from the UNSC by the Director, who has convinced them that the Project is still going strong. However, a distress call from a certain box canyon leads the Director to seek out his best agent, who is still dealing with the revelation of her own true identity.


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**Full Circle**

The place was, in a word, _scruffy_. Actually, no single word could do justice to Ramsey's Bar (Home of the famed Lazer Special! Try it today!). Dust and grime coated the wooden walls, parts of which also appeared to be rotting; wads of both gum and tobacco stubbornly clung to the bottoms of tables like so many barnacles growing on a whale, and the neon sign out front kept flickering.

This particular bar frequently played host to all sorts of rough patrons, including bounty hunters and soldiers. Therefore_,_ it was no surprise to anyone when a stranger walked in wearing full body armor and a helmet. The figure sat down, ordered a drink, and then remained completely silent thereafter.

Even with a lack of facial cues to go by, the other customers gave the armored soldier a wide berth, somehow sensing the atmosphere of stress and danger radiating off her. Thus, everyone else occupied the tables while she sat alone at the front counter.

She absentmindedly rubbed the back of her neck with her left hand, her right clenched around whatever drink she'd ordered - in her current state of mind, she couldn't even remember walking through the door, let alone what she'd asked for once she was inside. She supposed it didn't matter what kind of beverage she was holding. It wasn't like she could actually drink it anyway.

Everything was supposed to have been simple. Form a team, beat the bad guys. Of course, she'd never exactly been a team player.

_How long have you actually been_ anything_?_

Along her neck, her hand kept searching, almost independently of its owner. When she reached the small computer chip that rested near the base of her skull, she realized her own action and quickly placed the offending arm across her lap instead.

That chip was one of the reasons it hadn't really been so simple after all.

She wondered, if she pulled it out, would she die?

The sound of a stool scraping across the floor next to her brought her out of her musings, but she once again felt too apathetic to even turn her head - at least until she heard a voice speaking with a uniquely familiar accent.

"Whiskey, if you don't mind."

Her head whipped around so fast she initially thought she might break her neck, but she quickly realized that wouldn't be likely.

For a moment, all she could do was stare in surprise, though her helmet obviously prevented her from displaying any expression at all. The intruder only bowed his head while clasping his hands on top of the counter.

As soon as the armored woman could remember how to make words, she whispered harshly, "How the hell did you find me here?"

Before the newcomer could reply, the bartender placed a liquid-filled glass on the counter in front of him. Recognizing his companion's rage, the man latched onto the opportunity to postpone the conversation and took a long sip from the drink. When he finally set the glass back down, he answered tersely, "Beacon. In your armor."

_Shit._ She knew she'd forgotten something. She should have deactivated it, but she'd been in a hurry to escape. She sighed, suddenly feeling drained.

"I sleep in it, you know."

The man used his index finger to push his rectangular glasses further up his nose. "What?"

She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "The armor, I mean. I sleep in it. I thought it was just my own habit, but then... I tried taking it off."

"Oh." The man bowed his head.

Suddenly, she leaned towards him aggressively. " '_Oh_'? Is _that_ all you have to say to me? For _everything_ you've _done_!?"

He put up his hands in a placating motion as he begged, "Please, Allison, just -"

She laughed. Actually _laughed._ She briefly considered that she was going insane - or, rather, her equivalent of insane - before continuing. "You think you can still _call_ me that? I saw the files, and I _know_ what you did, _Director. _I know what I am now."

The Director's lime green eyes briefly widened before he quickly composed himself, shifting his face into a mask of coldness to disguise the pain and loss and guilt. His voice went from pleading to businesslike as well. "Alright, then, Agent Texas, since we're being so candid with one another, I suggest you listen very closely to what I have to say."

"Like _hell_!" Tex spat. "I don't take _orders_ from you anymore! Freelancer is _finished_! _I'm_ finished!"

"On the contrary, Texas. In fact, I would imagine we have very similar goals at this point in time."

"Yeah, _right!_ Give me _one_ good reason not to throw this drink in your face and walk outta here right now!"

The Director leveled a serious gaze at her as he gravely proclaimed, "The Alpha Unit is in danger."

For a moment, Tex was once again too shocked to speak. And once again, the silence was followed by a violent eruption. This time, however, she actually rose from her stool.

"Oh, so _now_ you suddenly _care_!? You _tortured_ him! Broke him until there was nothing left to _break_! _Now_ you're all about _protecting_ him!? _Bullshit!_"

The Director stood as well, though he remained calm as he continued with his hands clasped behind his back. "I was able to conceal the majority of this... _fiasco_ from the UNSC and its Oversight Subcommittee. However, given the new threat of this 'Meta' entity, I have seen fit to relocate the Alpha Unit to a small canyon used to train some of our simulation troopers."

Of _course_ he wouldn't move Alpha because he _cared_ for his safety. Then again, the Meta _would_ become even more dangerous with the acquisition of Alpha. She realized it really _would _be in both their best interests to keep Alpha safe, if only to stymie the Meta.

She sank back into her seat wearily as the Director did the same. Damn it, he was right about common goals. Not that she would ever admit that to him in such a direct manner. Instead, she asked, "Why me?"

The Director sighed, downing the rest of his drink in a single gulp. "I had originally sent Agent Florida to the training canyon to watch over the Alpha, but recently, I received word of Florida's untimely demise due to cardiac arrest. In addition, the canyon's Blue Team has conveniently asked for assistance against their respective Reds. The canyon's Virtual Intelligence Computer, or 'VIC', contacted me about sending someone down. Hence our current discussion."

Tex stared into her glass, which of course remained full. She had no idea how long she sat there before the Director tried to get her attention.

"Agent Texas?"

No response.

"... Allison?"

Her whole body seemed to twitch as if she were a marionette whose strings had just been jerked. When she tilted her helmet up towards the Director's face, the Director felt a tingle of foreboding race up his spine, anxiously awaiting her answer.

"Before I decide," Tex whispered, "I have to ask: why did you do it? Why did you torture Alpha?"

"You said it yourself; you saw the files. You know I wasn't permitted more than one Artificial Intelligence. I had to improvise."

"No," she denied. "You'd already covered up so much by then. You could've gotten away with stealing more AIs instead of splitting them off from Alpha."

The Director sighed for what felt like the billionth time, placing a hand to his forehead. "I knew which simulated events would hurt the Alpha most because... I knew those events would do the same to me - if they had actually happened. The only difference was that the Alpha didn't know it wasn't real. In the end, though, it didn't matter because I was only torturing a part of myself."

"Except that he's _not_ you! You _tortured_ a sentient being, and you don't think it fucking _matters!?_"

"It's just an Artificial Intelligence," he brushed off her tirade, unthinking.

_SMACK!_

The next sensation the Director registered was that one cheek stung like hell, while his other found a strangely contrasting comfort in the cool temperature of the wooden floor it now rested on. He blinked his eyes blearily, realizing two full seconds later that his glasses lay about five feet away. Scrambling dizzily across the floor to retrieve them, he put them on his face only to discover that the left lens had fractured to resemble a star sapphire, and the right had simply popped out of its frame.

The next thing he noticed was the fact that the humming chatter throughout the bar had given way to a silence so absolute that it seemed louder than any possible sound. The attention of the rest of the bar's patrons now lay on the fallen man and the armored soldier who had decked him. Some looked surprised, while others tensed - whether to run or to join in the fight varied from person to person.

Tex knelt down next to the Director before she whispered, "I should fucking kill you _right_ now. The problem is, I need to know where Alpha is. So here's the deal: you tell me where that canyon is, and I _don't_ give you an alleyway vasectomy."

"Bl- Blood Gulch," he sputtered. "It's c-called Blood Gulch. Look it up in the UNSC's database. You'll be given the proper security clearance."

After hearing this, she wasted no more time in leaving, stepping briskly over the Director's prone form. However, on her way out the door, she turned toward him once more.

"Just to be clear, Leonard, I'm not doing this for you. I'm doing this for Alpha."

She then resumed her exit, letting the door slam shut behind her.


End file.
